


Stand By Me

by cakeisnotpie



Series: Ship Clint With Everyone [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 80s movies, Flashbacks, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, but are caught up in their own shit, insensitive friends, who mean well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2131347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why can't anyone else but Sam see what's going on with Clint? Surely the 80s movies in the middle of the night are a dead giveaway. Or how Clint got his groove back after helping Sam get his. Plus a guest appearance by the Winter Soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand By Me

**Author's Note:**

> I realized that in my quest to ship Clint with everyone, I had neglected Cap 2. So here's Sam and Clint. Clint and Bucky is already in the planning stages. Feel free to check out the rest at my main page -- Clint/Tony, Clint/Steve, Clint/Bruce, Clint/Thor, Clint/Natasha, and Clint/Phil. :)

_“On your six!”_

_The crack of the launchers rattled off in a staccato pattern; the white trails approaching too fast, interwoven tracks of explosive death. He banked left, tilted 90 degrees, circled around. The flash would have blinded him except for the reflective lens of his goggles; he kept his center and caught a down draft trying to catch up._

_“Riley!”_

_The concussion of the blast knocked him head over heels, his throat screamed raw as his partner fell lifeless from the sky._

He woke with a start, the scream echoing in his head, and cold sweat across his chest. He sucked in quick breaths and started counting the slats of light on the tent wall, six down and six back. It calmed his racing mind until he could swing his legs over and sit on the edge of the cot, the green fabric covered slat biting into his thighs. His tank stuck to his skin, dog tags a heavy weight around his neck as he stood, slipping his feet into his untied boots and exiting the barracks into the warm, humid night. The camp was never silent, activity at all hours, but few people passed by the wooden stairs down by the garbage bins.

He pulled out the good memories to combat the bad. Bad puns and bad coffee, Riley’s hopeless belief the Cubs would win this year, his excellent BBQ skills. Tamped down the sound of mortar fire with Smokey Robinson over his earbuds.

Ice cold aluminum touched his knee. Sam reached for it without looking up, eyes hidden behind the shades he’d slipped on. He cracked it open and took a long swig, beer rolling down his throat. Then he pressed the edge of the can to his temple, a freezing spot that sucked up the pounding of his heart.

They sat in silence, just like they had all the other nights in the weeks since the mission. Not once had either of them spoken; Sam knew his name only because he’d asked around. Every night, the same thing; a six pack of cold beer and companionable silence.

Sam spoke, curiosity getting the best of him. “Updated gear, come and go as you please, imported beer … what kind of contractor are you, anyway?”

“Would you believe,” he said, “I’m just special?”

Sam snorted. “Long as you keep sharing, I don’t really care.” He drank the rest of his beer in slow swigs, watching the horizon lighten, the sun rising on a new day. Crushing the can, he chucked it high and into the closest dumpster. He stood; there were therapist appointments and more talking on today’s agenda. Might as well get it over with.

“Same bat place?” Sam asked.

“Same bat time.” Clint Barton answered.

* * *

 

“Hey Bird Boy!” Tony called as Sam entered the common room. “Wait until you see what I’ve cooked up in the lab for you! How do you feel about red?”

“Give him a minute to catch his breath,” Bruce said, stepping around the couch to offer his hand. “Bruce Banner. Nice to meet you.”

“Sam Wilson.” He glanced back at Steve who just shrugged. Steve had warned him about Tony’s enthusiasm. “Nice to be here. Word is there are soft beds and room service available. Been on the road so much I’ve forgotten what day it is.”

“Food is never a problem in the tower.” Bruce smiled. “But I wouldn’t count on getting too much time to yourself. Tony’s got all sorts of testing planned.”

“We aren’t staying long,” Steve said. “Just going to check new leads and touch base with Maria then we’re off again.”

“Not everyone has your super stamina, Steve-O.” Tony hooked an arm through Sam’s, tugging him towards the door. “Let your wingman get some rest for a few days. I’ve got a new algorithm running on Jarvis to search for your Snowman. Better than running around the world chasing rumors. Clint agrees with me, don’t you?”

Coming through the door, Clint paused at the sound of his name; his blue-grey eyes widened when he saw the newcomers. “Hey, Sam.”

“Saw you on TV. All suited up with the big boys.” Sam clapped him on the back, tossing his arms around Clint’s slack body and hugging him. “Special, my ass.”

“Hey, your ass is spectacular, don’t down yourself,” Clint replied as he pulled away, but the smile on Clint’s face didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So you’re Cap’s new sidekick?”

“Sam’s a friend,” Steve interjected, sticking up for Sam. “He’s a trustworthy man to have at your back.”

“Those are hard to find, or so I hear,” A flicker darted across Clint’s face, there and then gone in a blink. “You sticking around a bit? I’ll stock up on beer,” he said to Sam.

“A few days.” At least that’s what Sam hoped. He really was exhausted.

“Then time’s a-wasting. Lab for a fitting before sleep.” Tony corralled Sam again.

As he was hustled away, Sam saw Clint slip back out the doorway, disappearing down the hall.

* * *

 

He’d crossed too many time zones lately; Sam’s eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling at 2:47 a.m. Rolling out of bed, he checked the fridge in the kitchen, but there were only bottles of water. “Okay, Jarvis. Remind me the way back to the common area.”

“Of course, sir,” the computer replied.  “Take the first elevator bank on the left. The area is on the 78th floor.”

In a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, Sam saw the flickering light of the television as he entered. Slumped down on the couch, watching Andrew McCartney and Kim Cattrall fall in love, Clint barely moved, not even glancing over to see who had come in.

Opening the large stainless steel fridge, Sam searched until he found a six pack of Harpoon IPA. Carrying it over, he sat down next to Clint, pulled a can free, and touched it lightly to Clint’s bare arm.  Sam held it there for seconds until Clint’s fingers twitched, and he finally reached over and took it, popping the top and drinking, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. Then he pressed the cold metal to his temple.

“Seriously, dude? A sassy black gay friend?” Sam said after about twenty minutes of watching the flick.

“Shut up. You just wish you were as cool a dresser as Hollywood,” Clint shot back, the corners of his mouth turning up in a ghost of a smile.

“There’s a reason 80s fashion went out of style,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “Look at those shoulder pads.”

* * *

 

“Talking to him hasn’t worked, Steve,” Natasha argued, hands on her hips, firmly planted in front of the bigger man. “We need a better plan before we rush into his path.”

Sam had heard this line of reasoning all too many times before.  They both meant well, but history had taught them differently when it came to trusting others.  He might as well settle in to wait this out; Clint was in the kitchen, stirring a wonderful smelling pot of chili, so Sam sat down in one of the stools at the counter.

“A plan to kill him you mean.” Steve huffed his displeasure. “He won’t hurt me; I know that. I just need to get him in one place long enough …”

“He’s been brainwashed, Steve. I know you want to believe he’s in there, but you have to face that fact. He’s been unmade. There may be no coming back from that.” Natasha laid a hand on Steve’s arm, quiet and sincere.

The words fell on Clint and Sam saw him flinch, a tiny movement, eyes barely wincing at the corners. The wooden spoon paused mid-circle then began again as if nothing had happened.

“Bucky is strong. He remembered me once and he will again,” Steve replied.

Clint turned the stovetop down, covered the pot with a lid, and sat the spoon down on the counter. “Come on, you know Nat’s the queen of cognitive recalibration,” he said. “Just let her hit him real hard, problem solved. I’ve set the timer for three hours. No sneaking bites until the spices have time to develop.” With that, Clint sauntered out of the room.

How did they not see how fake Clint’s smile was? The tension in his shoulders and the brittleness in his voice?

“Hitting Bucky on the head isn’t the plan,” Steve announced. “Sam, help me out here.”

“Sorry, dude. You’ve both got points but you’re not listening to each other.”

He left them to rehash it all over again and set off to find Clint. Sam had spent the last four nights watching bad 80s romantic comedies and drinking beer through the wee hours of the morning with Clint.   Didn’t take a genius to know the most likely place; Clint was already shooting by the time Sam got to the range. He hung back along the wall for a bit before he picked up a pistol and stepped to the line.

“Not the same without flying, of course …” He trailed off the end of the thought as he slapped in a magazine.

“Want to bet on it? Jarvis can simulate horseback riding.” A spark flared in Clint’s eyes as he threw out the challenge.

“Flying versus riding? Yeah, you’re on,” Sam replied.

* * *

 

Sam squinted through the binoculars, barely able to make out the moving dot that was Steve. The desert sun heated the asphalt of the room far below the mesa’s edge; the black paint of the SUV reflected the harsh rays. Three weeks of work came down to this moment, a meeting that could happen at any moment.

“How the hell can you see that far?” Sam groused. He was hot and sweaty and had sand in places where sand should never be.  “Not fair, man. I’m telling you. Super serum soldiers, big green rage monster, iron suits … I thought you were like me, plain old human. Now I find you’ve got eagle eyes or some shit.”

“What part of Hawkeye did you miss?” Clint never took the scope away from his eye. “20/10 eyesight. Well within the range of normal.”

“There’s nothing normal about you.” When they joked like this, Sam could almost imagine what it could be like, the two of them. No baggage or ghosts of dead lovers. They’d been crammed in the car together this whole trip, chasing a phantom … speaking of the not-dead piece of luggage the size of Brooklyn Steve was dragging around … and Sam actually liked it. Even the greasy diner food and Clint’s bad taste in music. “If I never see another movie with Molly Ringwald, I can die happy.”

“The brat pack was the best. _Breakfast Club_? _Pretty in Pink_? _Sixteen Candles_? Come on.” Clint’s smile curved up, widening as he got into one of his favorite topics, poking at Sam’s tastes. Sam was sure Clint was exaggerating just to get a rise out of him, and that was a good thing because Clint was honestly enjoying himself.  

“Sorry but Long Duck Dong does not count as ethnic diversity.” Sam poked back. _Breakfast Club_ was a decent flick, but he wasn’t going to tell Clint that. “I’m picking the next one.”

“I kinda liked _Better Off Dead_ ,” a voice said from behind them. Whirling around, Sam saw the familiar outline of the Winter Soldier, two lethal pistols aimed at both of them. “Tell Steve to stop looking for me. He’s drawing attention my way and I just want to disappear for a bit. Get my thoughts straightened out without looking over my shoulder.”

“Look,” Sam said, putting his hands out, palms up. “Come with us now. We can give you a place to detox or whatever you need to do. Protect you. If you remember Steve, you know he’s not going to stop until he’s got you back.”

“And Natalia’s not going to be satisfied until I’m dead.” Bucky smiled at that, as if having the Black Widow on his trail amused him. “The whole bikini thing, I hear.”

Sam eased into position the new stingers Tony had built into his arm guards. “She’ll get over it.”

“Go,” Clint said. Sam glanced over in surprise; Clint’s bow hung down by his side, arrow only loosely notched. “Get your head on right. We’ll keep HYDRA busy until you’re ready. Then get your ass back to Steve before he drives us crazy.”

They exchanged a look, the two snipers, some sense of understanding that skated by Sam. With the barest nod, Bucky holstered his guns. “Tell him this isn’t payback.”

“We are up shit creek,” Sam said when Barnes was gone. “I like my balls very much, thank you, right where they are, so I’m going to say you let him go.”

“Agreed. I like them where they are too.” Clint winked at Sam.

“Are you flirting? Now? Right as we’re about to come face-to-face with an angry legend and a pissed off assassin?” Sam grinned back.

“Seems like a now-or-never sort of situation. I mean, it can’t be a surprise. I fed you expensive beer and shared my love of quality film, dude. That was as clear a signal as you’re going to get.”

“I’ve got nothing down here,” Steve’s voice said over the comms. “I don’t think he’s coming.”

Sam shut Clint down before he could get the first syllable out. “No. Absolutely not. We’re already on the shit list. No sex puns. Not right now,” Sam insisted.

“Delayed gratification. I can do that.”

* * *

 

“I’m telling you, it’s part of his strategy. Approach the ones most likely to be sympathetic to his lies. It’s what I’d do.”

Natasha was sitting in a bench along the back wall of the empty diner; at 2:30 in the afternoon, the small restaurant had no customers except them and the owner hadn’t minded turning the room over for an hour, not at the price they’d offered.

“We know about his programming now and it’s not the same, Tasha,” Steve countered.

“You can’t have it both ways, Steve,” Tony said. “.Either that was a cry for help or he’s manipulating us. You leave him alone or you hunt him down.”

“We can’t let him go. If HYDRA finds him, reprograms him … we can’t let that happen,” Steve argued.

“Okay, we go after HYDRA and give Olaf space.” Tony seemed happy at the prospect of having some of the HYDRA goons in his sights. “Legolas has got the right idea.”

“We’re falling right into his trap. We’re his mission and he’ll do whatever he has to accomplish it.” Natasha sounded tired, worn down by the endless circle of words.

“Like Clint did with the Helicarrier?” Sam said into the momentary silence. They all stared at him.

“Exactly like that,” Steve said. “Bucky’s been under HYDRA control. We’ll get him back just like we got Clint back.”

“Where is Clint?” Natasha asked. “He left …” she looked at the clock, “… almost forty minutes ago.” A long sigh escaped her lips and she shut her eyes. “Damn it all to hell. I wasn’t talking about him.”

“If you ask me, and no one did, it’s about time someone told him that.” Sam pushed back the table he was sitting near and stood up. “For what it’s worth, the guy out there today wasn’t the same one we fought in D. C. He was calmer, more aware, knew what he needed. Still got a shit load of problems but not in a fugue state. Glad I can say the same about Clint as well.”

He left them, crossing the street and walking the block back to the motel they’d taken rooms in. They meant well, good people all of them, but they were so caught up in their own emotional drama they’d put blinders on when it came to Clint. He knocked on Clint’s door, but got no answer, so he unlocked his own and went in. The chilly, moist air from the overworked air conditioner hit him, goosebumps rising on his skin after the heat outside. He stopped to turn the fan to automatic and change the temp on the window unit.

“They decide my fate yet?” Clint asked, stretched out on the king sized bed, his boots off, remote to the ancient TV in hand. “Do I have long enough to see the end of _Working Girl_?”

Sam glanced at the screen. “Is that Harrison Ford? Good God, how the mighty have fallen.” He kicked off his own boots and tugged his shirt over his head before he crawled on the bed. “Ten minutes, tops, before Steve is knocking on the door.”

“You told them off.” Clint sat up, plumped a pillow and added it to the one he was already leaning against. “Ten minutes, huh? What can we get up to in that amount of time?”

Straddling Clint’s legs, Sam turned off the TV and tossed the remote aside. “The curtains are as thin as the walls. They’ll know exactly what we’re doing.”

“Twenty says Nat lets herself in.” Clint didn’t resist losing his shirt. “Unfortunately, I am not properly supplied for this mission, unless you …”

“Not exactly on the top of my packing list. That narrows things down a bit.” Sam splayed his hands on Clint’s chest, gliding his palms along the lines of muscles. “We can save the rest for next time.”

“Keep the mystery alive. I like that.” Clint chuckled as he curled a hand around Sam’s waist; with the other, he caught the side of Sam’s neck, thumb brushing across Sam’s lips, a calloused weight. “I could turn some tunes on, nice sex montage music. I think I have ‘I’ll Melt With You’ on the playlist.”

“Shut up,” Sam said just before he closed the distance and kissed that smirking mouth. For all the joking, their first kiss was soft, a graze of lips, a promise rather than a demand. The attraction for Sam wasn’t just Clint’s amazing body – although he’d have to be dead not to notice those arms and hands and thighs and that ass – or his gorgeous blue-grey eyes. It was the wicked sense of humor and Clint’s deep compassion, the way he had understood what Sam needed, what he was going through, and the way he’d fought out of his own darkness with wit and strength. The kiss deepened, mouths slanting, lips parting, and Sam felt the stirrings of more than just lust in his gut. How long it had been since sex had been more than getting off, a settling into someone else rather than bumping against them.

“By the way,” Clint said, “have I told you lately how much I like your ass?” His hands emphasized the sentiment as they slipped downward and squeezed. “The new suit makes it look really good.”

“Yeah?” Sam shifted first one knee then the other inside of Clint’s legs, spreading them open. “Says the man with a sleeveless vest so everyone can see you flex your arms when you shoot.”  Clint lifted up as Sam scooted forward and they were chest-to-chest, Clint firmly settled on Sam lap, faces even, lips close, cocks lined up perfectly. “We keeping the clothes on until they’ve passed through?”

“Do you care?” Clint nipped at Sam’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth.

Breathing and kissing and moving together, arms circling, hands tracing over sweaty skin, they stopped caring about the time and sank into the moment. Sam’s cock grew harder, the friction of their jeans grinding together, getting rougher as they jockeyed for the best position. Clint liked little circles, rolling his hips against Sam; Sam liked to hold Clint still and ride up and down as they kissed. Clint sucked in bits of skin along Sam’s neck while Sam swiped long strokes with his tongue, tasting the sensitive skin behind Clint’s ear. Their breathing was loud and ragged, moans and groans now, no more words, just the squeaking of the mattress as they moved.

“Sam?” Steve’s fist connected with the door three times in a row. “Do you know where Clint is?”

Clint took that moment to bite one of Sam’s nipples; the groan was loud enough that Steve had to hear.

“Sam?” Steve sounded more hesitant.

Sam got his hand past the waistband of Clint’s jeans and rubbed his thumb across the leaking slit of Clint’s cock.

“Fuck,” Clint moaned. “God, yes.” He dragged Sam’s mouth back to his and attacked, sucking hard at Sam’s lips as his tongue delved deep down his throat.

A warm breeze sweep over them and the chain on the door rattled.

“Whoa!” Tony said. “Now that’s hot.”

“Shut the door,” Steve said.

“Have fun, boys,” Natasha said.

 “Hey!” Tony complained, his voice still clear despite the firmly shut door.

“No,” Steve and Natasha said at the same time. Footsteps receded as they moved away.

“Thank God,” Clint groaned. “Let’s get out of these.”

They shed the rest of their clothes as fast as they could, kicking off jeans and briefs in a flurry of knees and elbows. Then they were back together, trying to climb in one another’s skin, kissing every bare inch as their hands worked along aching cocks, long slides and short jerks. Sam crawled down Clint’s chest with his mouth, pressing him back into the bed, and took Clint’s hard length into his mouth first. But Clint wasn’t satisfied to lay back and let things happen; he smacked Sam’s thigh until they shifted around and suddenly Clint’s mouth engulfed Sam. Push and pull together, they matched each other stroke for stroke. The bed creaked louder when they began to thrust their hips in time; moans and groans bounced off the walls. Tension grew and Clint came first, arching up off the bed, his mouth falling away so he could gasp in air as he uncoiled. The taste of Clint sent Sam over the edge, and he spattered all over Clint’s face and chest.

“Oh, holy hell.” Clint’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath. “I needed that.”

Sam rolled over onto his back, his head landing on Clint’s bent leg. “Me too, man. Me too.”

They just lay there for a few minutes, Sam floating back into focus.

“There’s a drugstore just down the street. Once I get my energy back, we can wander down there and buy supplies.” Clint pushed up on his elbows and looked over at Sam. Pearly white splotches ran down his cheek and chin; he caught up a glob with his finger and sucked it into his mouth. “Okay, maybe a shower first.”

Giving a weak little jump, Sam’s cock tried to stir. “Oh my God,” he said, realization dawning. “Captain America saw me getting it on. Half-naked with my hand on your cock.”

“He was in show business. He’s seen it all.” Clint rolled off the bed and headed for the small bathroom. “Want to shower with me? We might both get ten minutes of hot water that way.”

Sam got up and followed that fine ass. He’d worry about Steve later.

* * *

 

“Why did you bother with me? Back in Afghanistan?”

Sam lay on his back in his bed in the Tower, Clint sprawled across him, naked, sated, and completely relaxed. Good food and great sex did it to him every time.

“Because you were amazing up there. Risking your life to try and save him. Getting the job done even when it was a suicide mission.” Clint lifted up on his elbow and looked Sam in the eyes. “They pretty much screwed you over and still you fought your way back. I could see it in you, how much you loved him and how determined you were to keep going.”

“Riley and I … we were so young, you know? Thought we were invincible. I don’t know if it would have lasted, after we got back. Love under fire, right? But it was intense and I blamed myself for his death for a long time.” Sam carded a hand through Clint’s hair. “Like you do for Coulson and the others.”

“I was … still am … a mess but I’m beginning to believe maybe I didn’t use up all my second chances.” Clint lowered his head and brushed his lips along Sam’s. “Had a little help with that.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam said, deepening the kiss.

“Not that I’m not enjoying the show, but I’m sort of dripping blood on the carpet here.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Clint cursed. It was a toss-up who was out of the bed first, but Sam went for covering himself with a sheet while Clint produced a knife from somewhere. “Don’t you know how to knock, Barnes?”

“The Winter Soldier doesn’t knock.” A set of white teeth flashed in the darkness. “Look at you two. Do I get credit for this? At least one good mark in my ledger.”

“Yeah, no. Fix your own love life. Which one is it anyway, Steve or Natasha?” Clint asked.

“Both,” Barnes replied.

“Well, fuck me,” Clint said. “Please let us have front row seats for that reveal.”

“Sure.” Barnes swayed where he stood, grabbing onto the bureau. “If it happens.”

 “Sit down before you fall down,” Sam ordered. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

“Jarvis, would you tell everyone we have a guest?” Clint asked. “This is going to be interesting.”


End file.
